It's Not Easy
by Anti-Social-Turtle
Summary: Post More Monsters future fic. Bosco comes home.


Disclaimer: I do not own Third Watch.

Spoilers: Eh, not really, but I do read the spoilers.

A/N: After watching "More Monsters" I sat back and thought for a good, long while. No matter if I want to write about it or not, there is always something I feel could be different or better about an episode. After thinking about it for a while, I came to the conclusion that I couldn't think of a single thing I could change- it was that great.

She stepped briskly with poise and grace, but in no hurry. Her stride was careful, one sneaker clad foot in front of the other, almost crossing. This caused her hips to sway and her feet to slide, each step producing a small squeak against the perfectly polished floor.

_I can't stand to fly  
I'm not that naïve_

Her sense of sight had grown accustomed to the bright lights, and her sense of smell to the harsh antiseptic, nauseating aroma. She counted the amount of steps she had taken since she entered the Emergency Room doors.

"53," she nearly said aloud, remembering last time she had come, it had taken her 78 steps to reach the elevators. Then another 24 steps to the nurse's station, and yet another 91 till she would reach her partners room.

She had conditioned herself to do this, to count every move, every step, making each the precise distance as the last. It gave her something to chew on, a distraction, it kept her mind from wandering each day to what she would see when she finally approached his room.

That was always her destination.

_I'm just out to find  
The better part of me_

This time she knew what she would see, and she was more then prepared. Both of them, in fact everyone had been pulling for, waiting for this day for nearly three months now.

At one point he had tried to sign himself out A.M.A, but failed considerably- collapsing before he could even dot the "I" in Boscorelli.

But this time was for real. No one was going to stop him, no warnings, no threats, no nothing, just a quick sign of a paper and a hail of a cab.

At least that was **_his _**plan.

_I'm more than a bird_

_I'm more than a plane_

She refused to let him go home alone for the first time in three months. In fact she was so ready to tell him that she never wanted him to be alone again. But she just couldn't form the words; they were beyond her comprehension. Was she even ready for this?

She had spoken to his doctors, whom she had become very friendly with over the long, lonely weeks she spent by his side. She promised to take care of him, drive him to therapy everyday for the next month or so. She told Bosco that, after the fact. But he had very few misgivings; and soon she let the subject drop.

Until today. Today was the day. The day he'd get his life back, and the day she'd get her best friend back.

Finally after her 91st step, she reached his door. It was ajar, but she felt the need to knock. She always knocked, even in that first month of ever-lasting sleep he had endured, when she knew she would not get an answer, she knocked.

"Yeah?" came his still slightly raspy voice. She pushed open the door, for once excited as to what she'd see.

More than some pretty face beside a train  
It's not easy to be me

He sat, pretty still on the bed, his body facing the window, but his head twisted toward the door. His scarred profile facing her, the deep pink creases held together by darker stitches, running along his jaw and cheekbone's. But she had been used to that for quite a while.

He was clad in a loose fitting pair of sweats and a light, airy tank top, allowing his still bandaged torso to breathe. She had reminded him that it was the end of August, and quite hot, but he insisted on the sweats. "Of all things to be self-conscious about," she had thought when he told her he didn't like the little scars on his legs from the pieces of glass. They were hardly even noticeable.

_Wish that I could cry  
Fall upon my knees_

"You all ready?" She asked, sitting next to him with a hand on his back. He bowed his head in a nod as she began to rub his back.

_Find a way to lie  
About a home I'll never see_

The nurse pushed a not-so-cooperative Maurice Boscorelli in a wheelchair, out to the curb. Faith's car had been parked as close to the entrance as humanly possible.

She opened the passenger side door and waited for Bosco to enter. He took his time, painstakingly sliding his way in, and throwing his "mandatory" cane in the back seat. Faith closed his door and made her way to the driver's side.

She started the car and pulled out and finally away from Mercy Hospital. Turning to her silent friend, "You okay?" she asked concernedly.

He had been solemnly starring out the window, and continued his stolid gaze out at the hot August sun, "It hurts." And that was that.

_It may sound absurd but don't be naive  
Even Heroes have the right to bleed_

The rest of the ride was silent, before Bosco finally perked up, "Where are we going? This isn't the way to my apartment..." he stated, confused.

"Well," Faith retorted, "Ty and I were going to clean your place over the weekend, but we both got roped into a double shift, so, I figure there's enough room at my place in the mean time...it'd not like I was going to leave you there anyway."

He looked at her, and then back out the window, "alright."

_I may be disturbed but won't you concede  
Even Heroes have the right to dream  
It's not easy to be me_

Finally inside her apartment, after much argument, she convinced Bosco to sleep in her bed. He had been surprised at the sparseness of her apartment; as per the last time he saw it. But there was a couch where a couch belonged, and tonight it belonged to Faith.

She had left him in the bedroom to get changed, hoping he could do it on his own, but leaving the door open just incase. But she didn't dare look in.

She left the kitchen, gathering what she had come for in her hands, and made her way to the bedroom door. She looked away and knocked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," he reassured her, but as she walked in, she thought otherwise.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, trying to regain normal breath. He had paled considerably but they both knew it was merely because he'd hardly done anymore then stand up for the past three months.

She came closer, placing each object from her grasp onto the bedside table: A small cup with about three or four small pills in it, a glass of water, and finally a small golden box.

He looked at her briefly, exchanging unspoken words, before downing the pills...not yet bothering to chase them with the water, "What's this?" he held up with box carefully between his thumb and forefinger.

"Just open it," she pleaded.

He complied and quickly removed the lid, revealing a gold chain. On this said chain was his old crucifix, and a new charm, this one of a "Superman" emblem.

Before he could question it, she began, "Your old chain was destroyed. I took it too be fixed but they couldn't really make it the same, but that's the same crucifix...they, uh, cleaned it," she gulped, remembering when the doctors handed her the bloody thing after his surgery.

"What about this?" he held up the chain and played around with the new charm.

And so...she told him...

_"He'll make it," Swerski had said._

_"You didn't see him," Faith countered, vigorously rubbing away at the bloodstains on her face._

_"He's Bosco.." Swerski pushed, trying to reason with her._

_"He's not superman," She finished, finally only able to wish away the blood._

She let her word sink in a little before taking the chain from him. She then moved to sit behind him on the bed and wrapped the chain around his neck, clasping in behind him, "I stand corrected," she told him, eyeing the large "S" now laying against his skin.

He followed her gaze, then looked up into her eyes, "Thank you," he said, sincerely and sleepily.

_Up, up and away, away from me  
It's all right, You can all sleep sound tonight  
I'm not crazy or anything_

_I can't stand to fly  
I'm not that naive  
Men weren't meant to ride  
With clouds between their knees_

The next morning wasn't the least bit awkward. They hardly said much before breakfast, the same as the night before. Today was their icebreaker. He could be superman any day, but for now he was aiming for Clark Kent.

_I'm only a man in a silly red sheet  
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street  
Only a man in a funny red sheet  
Looking for special things inside of me  
inside of me ...... inside of me ...  
  
I'm only a man in a funny red sheet  
I'm only a man looking for my dream  
I'm only a man in a funny red sheet  
  
It's not easy ...  
It's not easy to be me..._

A/n 2: Ok so yeah, I kinda completely ignored Rose, but...oh well. And I do not own the some "Superman" by Five For Fighting.


End file.
